The Alchemist and the Exorcist
by SweetCocoaPuffs
Summary: A world where both alchemy and exorcism exist. Red is a street rat who endures pain and wants to find reasons to live. Edward is a talented adventurer who undergoes suffering and values knowledge. Both lives eventually collide. Both each exchange unforgettable lessons.
1. The Prologue

_Note_

* * *

 ** _Hello! This is my first crossover and first story. I've made the two universes merge as one world, solely because there's so much plot in both series that I want to start over from the very true beginning and actually uncoil these events side by side._**

 ** _I am not sure if storyline will be canon; some parts may change, some may not. That goes for the characters' personalities as well. I simply don't want to rewrite a canon beginning, but I do like to stay true to the themes._**

 ** _This is a very long prologue._**

 ** _As you read along, you might notice that I wrote their thought processes respective to their age. As Allen and Edward grow older, the plot will become more detailed and "full."_**

 ** _Please enjoy!_**

* * *

 _D.G(-)man belongs to Katsura Hoshino, and Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa._

* * *

 _The world as one._

It was such a beautiful idea—to have humanity unite and rejoice, side-by-side as comrades on the broken battlefield called the world.

To become one.

That was the ultimate ideal for mankind established in the decade. However, as the world evolved and unimaginable discoveries of power and magic came into light—

The ideal of mankind changed.

Humanity was suddenly categorised into two groups: Alchemists and Exorcists. Those who possessed none magical power or even superior intellect were merely cast aside, easily forgotten and hardly acknowledged.

Before this evolution, mankind was merged as one land, one capital, one kingdom. Due to the birth of alchemy and exorcism, civilians separated and settled into copious amount of cities, towns and villages, all scattered across the continent.

Alchemy and Exorcism were worshipped for their greatness; indeed, it was then that many people began to ponder over what sorcery was more powerful. This lead to many great conflicts over the next few decades.

Be that as it may, unknown to humanity at the time, new evolutions occurred. Or, one could argue that it was not perhaps _evolution_ per say, but _creation_.

Inhuman beings were suddenly everywhere upon the continent, roaming towns and attacking inhabitants. They were irregular in shape, size, smell, and even had their own sorcery that killed dozens.

Worst of all, they evolved a hundred times faster than humankind. Most of these creations could not understand human language, but the biologically updated monster, as many people preferred to call it of the time, could very well initiate a conversation with a horror-stricken human.

Alchemists, due to fear of the sheer number of mankind decreasing, jumped in and used their alchemy in attempt to destroy the creations. To their dismay, whilst many were wiped out, the highly advanced monsters were far beyond their level, and could not be defeated.

Exorcists then took the bloody battlefield, and to the cititzens' delight and alchemists' anger, the evil creations were not only fully obliterated, but _exorcised_.

This caused many confusion, but nonetheless, it was understood that exorcists were the only ones who could deal with these beings.

But then a civil war broke out amongst the grand cities, with exorcist believers claiming alchemy was useless and insufficient. On the other hand, alchemy users went as far as to discredit exorcists and even accuse them of creating the monsters themselves to take all the glory.

Alchemy versus Exorcism. That was the norm for the next few years, until evidence of a man behind the creation of the monsters surfaced ...

... and people began to fear for their lives, as gruesome deaths emerged, greater than ever, and the monsters surrounded the continent in armies.

The alchemists and exorcists set aside their differences and sought out to work together to defeat the mastermind. However, their cooperation yielded no positive results, and due to their endless conflicts and distrust, departed their bond.

The alchemists established their own Order in the country of Amestris, and conjured up their statuses as State Alchemists in their military.

The exorcists settled in another country further north, farther than the country called Drachma, and made themselves known as Exorcists of the Black Order.

The massive armies of monsters continued to roam free, attacking more and more to satisfy their infinite hunger.

The evil monsters were then given an official term— _Akumas_.

Years went by.

Alchemy versus Exorcism. That was still the norm in the new era.

* * *

•••Prologue I•••

* * *

 _Red_

* * *

 _Great Europe—City of London_

* * *

The circus was happening tonight.

Red fell from the roof and landed on the rocky pavement of the alleyway, startling a passerby that was accompanied by a dog.

The clown let out an exclaim. "Goodness! Are you alright?" The tone of his high-pitched, airy voice sounded as if he had instead witnessed a child merely tripping over a rock.

Red gingerly picked himself up, noticing the small, fresh wound pushing through on his left arm. He ignored the man in the baggy clown costume and continued to ravage the corners of the dead-end passageway for edible food, knocking over the trash bins and fouling the clown's nostrils without a care.

"That looks like it hurts a lot," the clown made his way into the vicinity, his dog, a brown-white breed with droopy ears and sporting a jester cuff with a clown hat, following through. "Were you trying to go in the chimney to look for food in the houses?"

Red ignored the clown and picked up an ageing black onion that he found in his pursuit. He rubbed it with his filthy shirt and sniffed it. This greatly fascinated and entertained the clown.

"But how are you not hurt?" he asked in his whimsical, bouncing voice. "You could have died."

Red, finding that he couldn't ignore the strange clown any longer, lifted his head up and stared.

Through the darkening night, he saw the heavily white painted face of the clown. The only remarkable feat that caught his attention were the insanely bright red lips, drawn as wide as the cheeks, in a permanent, fixed grin.

Red's mouth dropped open in surprise, fear, and curiosity. But he closed it and parted his own lips to speak, noticing that he wasn't fazed at all by this stranger's bizarre appearance. "I'm not normal." His voice was timid and hesitant, yet calculating and sharp.

"How so, child?" The towering clown bent down, jingles on his costume ringing loudly. The lights of the town square were shining behind him.

Red rolled up a sleeve and stuck out his deformed, veinous, blood-red left arm. "Because I'm a monster, apparently," he replied stoically. "Falling this high doesn't hurt me as much as it hurts normal humans."

"Really? That's amazing!" The clown chortled in squeaks, which Red couldn't comprehend why. He bounced side to side, the red circle on his nose somehow rotating if that were even possible. "So you're alone?"

"Yes," Red replied, eyeing the delusional man from head to toe. "Are you part of the circus?" he asked, sadness sweeping through his hoarse voice.

The clown nodded enthusiastically, the bells on his hat jingling joyfully. "Allen and I"—the dog gave an excited bark—"will be performing tonight as part of the main act!" He crouched down and peered at Red, his unmoving gigantic lips becoming uncomfortable to stare at.

Red simply raised an eyebrow in response, his pale, oddly distant eyes taking in the clown as if he was simply an extension of the starry night above them.

"Why don't you join me?" the excited, almost hysterical voice offered. His shoes were easily twice the size of Red's body, and the boy took a few steps back.

He blinked, his, empty grey eyes suddenly sparkling with curiosity, but only for a brief second before it died down to its usual dim mistiness. It was the first time he had ever conversed with someone for more than a minute, let alone given an invitation to go somewhere.

He opened his mouth to reply, yet closed it, unsure of what to decide. The clown sensed his hestiation, and Red could hear the grin in the voice.

"That arm of yours can be put to good use! You'll fit right in, and you don't have anywhere else to go, either. So come and travel with me."

Red dropped his mouth open as the clown laughed, rather maniacally it was true, but Red slowly closed his mouth, and it took several long moments for him to realise that the sides of his lips were turning upwards.

The clown patted his head with his gigantic, rubbery gloved hands.

"Why, child... You have a beautiful smile!"

And that was the day Red learned what a smile meant.

A first gesture for him.

* * *

Mana Walker taught him many things. Many beautiful, terrible, painful things. There were endless experiences Mana gave him. In just one sitting, behind the carriage of horses that carried the circus props, Red learned to taste a meal, to experience the longing of waiting for Mana to return with the small bowls of soup, and to wonder what kind of person Mana was to him.

Mana was odd—Red, despite having been abandoned since birth, could tell that much. He was easily overly excited, and at times would be incapacitated with mirthless laughter at trivial matters, such as wondering what the circus horses ate. However, Mana was part of a troupe in the circus, and got along with most performers as he and his dog Allen were the main act. Red greatly admired him as he watched him from afar on the grand stage, juggling hundreds of balls amid a tightrope.

Mana didn't forget his offer—the day he took the child in, Red was placed on stage in a wooden chair with his deformed arm fully exposed. People gasped, people whispered. But after a few shows, Red slowly started to realise that people were eyeing with him with interest. He asked Mana for an explanation, and the clown replied that Red gained the respect of the audience, which were the sole reason Red was gradually becoming a main act.

The boy didn't fully understand, but the money that people were paying for the shows greatly improved meal and circus conditions for Mana and him, and he paid no heed to his own feelings and emotions on the matter.

One day, while they were travelling, Mana was brushing Allen the dog's fur when he said, "Always be respectful to your elders."

Red, eating a freshly baked potato, tilted his head upward, confused at the abrupt, random statement. "Okay," he said slowly, although he saw Mana's maniacal grin again and thought once more of his guardian's sanity.

"You are a good child," Mana complimented, getting up and slipping into the habit of patting his head. "You'll go far."

Being only approximately six years old, Red didn't analyse much about what Mana meant. All he knew that as months crept by, the shows were becoming more tedious and tiring.

The towns were also further and further away.

"Ah, it's because we're nearing the border of Amestris," Mana explained when Red had asked him why. "Circuses aren't allowed in Amestris."

"Why not?"

"Alchemists don't like circuses much, since it's a festive luxury exorcists celebrate. But there's been many protests, so the Amestrian government is removing the ban in a year."

Grey eyes narrowed in innocent confusion. "Alchemists? What's that, Mana?"

"It's best for us not to talk about it." The clown was fatigued. "I'd get myself hanged at the end of this."

* * *

Red found out why Mana was becoming more anxious and deranged as weeks went on. It was because of Cosimov, a performer in the same troupe who was roaming around and beating up Allen the dog.

"Mana!" Red cried out one morning when he took the pup for a walk in the visiting town, and found that its legs were badly fractured.

Mana, fresh without his clown makeup, burst into tears and frantically tore the whimpering dog away from Red, disappearing into a street.

Red walked back to the carriage to find Cosimov guffawing and ruthlessly insulting Mana. It was then that he experienced the true brutal power of anger, and bit Cosimov's nose with all the strength he mustered.

The performers pulled him off the screaming, bleeding man, and Red was chained to a pole in a separate, tiny carriage for a week, missing two shows. No one told Mana where Red was; they falsely informed him that the deformed boy wandered off.

Red glared at the door, trusting and believing that Mana would find him and free him. Cosimov was nothing more than an envious, cheating hypocrite who barely received any tickets for his act. The sole reason he attacked Allen the dog was because Mana was the main act of the troupe.

Red didn't doubt his guardian—he was sure that Mana would rescue him. He had seen it in those dark eyes—he knew the clown must love him. Red was too young to fully understand the relationship between him and Mana, but he knew from the bottom of his heart that Mana, as delusional and emotionally distant as he could be at times, wouldn't abandon him.

The barks of Allen the dog whimpered throughout the night, and Red gasped, his heart racing, a gigantic grin appearing.

"You came—!" the beaming boy burst out as the carriage door opened.

Red's hopeful smile disappeared. He screamed as a metal bar whipped across his body, Cosimov's face twisted in murderous rage.

Through blistering tears, Red pleaded, with bloodshot shaking eyes, to Mana who was watching outside the door, his top heat concealing his face in uncomfortable, eerie shadows that Red had never seen before.

Mana dropped his head and turned away, Allen the dog jogging at his side. Red saw one last look of his saviour's back before the door closed, and the rounds of the whipping began.

* * *

Mana never came back after that day. Red was never given an answer as to why. Cosimov was thrilled, and since the dog was gone, he resorted to beating Red into a pulp. With Mana's absence, the troupe became disorderly and chaotic, with many performers itching to steal the main act position.

He didn't care about the circus anymore.

He simply wanted to see Mana again.

But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

* * *

He started to despise humans. He couldn't figure out the reason why, but Mana's departure seemingly pierced a hole in his soul. The circus was travelling to nowhere in particular. Red was tired of the assaults, the verbal abuse, and the endless useless show performances. It seemed that the moment Mana departed, people turned off their switch; performers who generally got along with Red suddenly pushed him, stole his food, and made rumours of how he slaughtered innocents with his deformed arm.

Furious, the boy kicked his bowl of cold, stale broth to the grass, and ran off, Cosimov and the other performers roaring with laughter after him.

* * *

Red wiped his tears, an uncommon gesture he wasn't accustomed to. Mana once told him that people cried because they were sad, but Red thought again. He was sad, yet more than anything, he was in pain. Mana had given him truly so much in his life, and to see the man he respected and admired abandon him for a dog was truly hurtful.

Red liked Allen the dog, indeed. The pup would lick his hand and rest in his lap in pleasure. However, he thought he had a special place in Mana's heart...

It was all just a lie, the boy supposed. He sniffed and looked back on Mana's words.

 _You'll go far._

Tears welled up in his pale eyes as the words rang in his head. He enjoyed the full year he had travelling with Mana and his dog. Red would never forget the happiness and warmth he experienced. It was short-lived, yes, but now that he was maturing, he began to understand the world.

Sometimes people had good hearts, but weren't self-fulfilled persons. Mana was the example of that. He had a heart to take in Red, but that was solely all he did. It was a verbal agreement with no conditions set: Mana simply allowed him to join the circus, but Red was on his own for survival.

Red thought again. If the clown genuinely cared for him, then he wouldn't have stayed and watched Cosimov hammering the six-year-old into bloody wounds with a bar.

"Humans are stupid," he whispered, wiping his eyes as he hugged his knees in the evening emerald-green fields.

A horn boomed, and Red lifted his head up to see a cargo train stopping at an intersection. It was heading in the direction of the country named Amestris, a place full of people called alchemists.

His heart suddenly leaped. He heard about alchemists many times, but never seen one. Amestris was also a country nobody dared stepped foot in. Red always wondered why, his eyes full of curiosity every time Mana shushed him and asked him to never bring up such a topic.

But Mana wasn't with him anymore. He was probably dancing with peculiar joy with his dog in some faraway city, and as far as Red could tell, must have forgotten him. It was this one thought that caused Red to no longer care about waiting for the clown.

The sliding doors of the cargo trains were open. Red silently crepted onto the tracks and peered in, smelling hay and heavily crated boxes.

Amestris.

He didn't know where to go. He could revert back to his normal life, back to ravaging the street for scraps. But encountering Mana and being abandoned once more changed him.

Red didn't want to be empty anymore. Happiness, joy, warmth and knowledge... he desired them. He yearned for them, and he'd figure out what the world really was, on his own. He'd start with Amestris, he told himself. It seemed to be the most intriguing, mysterious country of all, and Red wanted to see it with his own eyes.

Europeans were banned from visiting Amestris, due to the severe conflicts between each one's country, he once heard from Cosimov's ravishing. However, he could sneak in... he was still a child, he had no parents, he had no certificates, nothing. He could start over and no one would ever question his origins...

The boy jumped inside the train, and slid the doors shut, hearing voices that he couldn't make out, but didn't care for some distance ahead. He laid down upon the mountainous hay, stretched his hands above his head, and smiled, finally drifting off to a calm, almost mesmerising sleep as the engine of the train blared like soothing music and began moving through the night, heading for the majestic cities in another country.

He was going to be absolutely fine on his own.

* * *

•••Prologue II•••

* * *

 _Red_

* * *

A week passed.

* * *

 _Amestris—City of Rush Valley_

* * *

The colour of blood. That was how people saw red.

Not the colour of sweet, ripened apples, nor beautiful red camellias. Not the colour of bright, shining cherries that always stung his tongue with their sour tangyness.

Blood.

He let out a yelp as the train attendant screamed, having slid open the door and seeing him sprawled on the hay in the early bright morning. Red jumped to the side and ran out of the compartment.

 _"What the hell, kid?!"_ The attendant, a young man with light-brown hair in his late teens, grabbed him by the shoe and wrung him around, causing Red to cry out as he was held upside down. "How long were 'ya inside this car?!" His accent was heavily foreign and quite fast-paced, causing Red to panic and thrash.

"L-let go of me!" The child demanded in his own dialect, refusing to answer. This dissatisfied the attendant greatly, who scowled.

"You've probably been on since our last stop in London, aren't 'ya?! You're a European aren't 'ya?!" he snarled. "You broke the law, kid!"

Red gritted his teeth. Determined to not get caught, he kicked his leg up into the air—and the man screamed in a high-pitched voice as the shoe flew off Red's foot and chucked him in the eye.

Silently cackling to himself and admiring his own wits, Red charged toward the open desert in front of him the second the hand lost its grip. He nearly fell inside a railroad track, as the voice of the attendant shouted vulgar sentences.

 _"I'm a kid, you know!"_ he screamed back mischievously.

It was difficult to run on such uneven surfaces on one shoe, but he followed the railroad tracks until he saw a rocky mountainous path ahead that ended the desert area. He frowned. He had been running for ten minutes, yet it seemed that he was already out of the hot desert.

 _Where am I...?_ Pale eyes observed the unfamiliar land with fear. He sniffed, and frowned. Amestris smelled all very different from Europe, it seemed. There were fragrances Red wasn't familiar with and unfortunately couldn't identify. Cripes. At times like these, what survival skills had Mana taught him? He bit his lip, thinking hard as he walked unconsciously in a circle, uncertain where to go.

A clank caught his attention. Red looked to his right and saw an elderly man with a cane and a young boy a bit taller than his height walking out from the opposite side and entering the desert area.

Grey eyes lit up, and Red spoke.

"Excuse me, do you know where I am?" he asked the elderly man as the two passersby neared closer. Red stared at the boy, whose hair was flaming red in the shining sun. It suited his clothes, he had to admit, which was a long beige cloak, slightly worn out. It wasn't all that very fancy nor remotely striking from European clothing.

The boy was surprised to see him. An emerald-green eye gazed at him as he fixed the black eyepatch that rested on his right eye. Red saw the green eye observe his feet, no doubt noticing the one shoe.

It took him another blink to remember that he was speaking in his European dialect, and a frown emerged on his lips.

But the boy, however, replied, and in perfect identical language. "Hello," the red-haired child spoke in a strangely mature voice for his appearance. Red mentally decided that this boy ought to be a few years older. "Are you lost?" he asked, giving his guardian a sideway glance.

Red nodded.

The elderly man coughed, the enormous black circles—makeup, Red recognised immediately—occupying his oddly lifeless yet stern eyes. "You see the mountains ahead?" the man coughed once more, then said, "Deak, kindly show the child the way."

"Sure." Deak turned around and gestured to the area he had just departed out from. "We're in a rather weird secluded area right now," he told Red, "but everything is divided according to climate. We're currently on the border of the desert area, but just up ahead, will be the mountains and forest."

"Mountains and forest..." Red repeated. Amestris climates were amazingly diverse, he thought. Europe looked identical, no matter where Red travelled. No wonder he had a such a difficult time attempting to smell his way.

"Once you're in the mountains and forest, you'll only have to walk a short way until you see the gates of Rush Valley," the older boy said, scratching his cheek. "It's a big town."

"Thank you," Red said, a bit stiffly, and Deak nodded. The two passersby walked off, leaving Red to absorb all that he learned.

 _"...he's probably an European."_

Red froze. He turned to see the elderly man coughing and Deak giving him a rather suspicious gaze and then a slight apologetic smile before walking on.

Red began to feel discouraged. He wasn't sure if he just met two Amestrians, but the evidence so far suggested that if people were to find out about his nationality, things would take a bad turn. He knew he wouldn't belong in Amestris, now that he reflected back on his actions. Then he called himself stupid, because the truth was, he sadly never belonged anywhere, in the end.

However, he still wanted to learn what alchemists were... _it's only been less than an hour since you've stepped foot into this country,_ Red told himself fiercely. _Don't_ _give up..._

Following Deak's instructions, Red jogged into the forest and mountains area, aware of animals and creatures he had never seen before, not even in the circus. He shivered slightly, seeing a dark bear covered in the shadows as he slowed his pace and resorted to a nervous walk.

Just as the older boy had told him, Red walked for about fifteen minutes until he stopped seeing cliffs and mountains, and instead saw a forest clearing in which tall, iron gates soared. Carriages and horses with riders were entering from other pathways, Red saw men and women dressed in exact blue attire, guns stuck in their holsters and a shining badge resting on their chests proudly.

 _These must be officials..._ Red racked his brain, trying to remember conversations he eavesdropped on in the past amongst various speakers. _Amestris has a government, I think..._

 _"Please present your identity cards!"_ A woman in the formal blue attire declared. Her blonde hair was tied up in a knot, and her face was commanding yet civil. Red thought she was very beautiful, yet a bit young to be a soldier.

 _"Hawkeye!"_ The woman winced. An intimidating, muscled man towered over her easily as he snarled, _"Do you think that uniform gives you special authority?! You're only still a weed in the military academy! Don't go booming orders, you hear?!"_

Red watched, his pale eyes moving in fear as the woman named Hawkeye bowed, her face crestfallen.

"I-I apologise, Commander... I was solely trying to speed up the process—"

 _"No one asked you!"_ The man's voice was unpleasant. Soldiers behind him who seemed to be ranks higher than Hawkeye coughed, smirks emerging on their smug faces. _"Any more disobeyment and I'll have you sent back into the academy until you mature your brains!"_

The wine-haired boy frowned. He didn't understand what the woman did wrong. As soon as the Commander left, Red saw another soldier hurrying forward to take identity cards. Hawkeye was walking back to the military truck, her fists balled.

An idea compelled him to spring into action, and Red jogged after her, easily unnoticed by the swarm of soldiers and visitors.

He tugged on the sleeve of her coat. She turned around and blinked, apparently not at all used to seeing children so unusually close to her.

She saw his shirt, which was muddy and had several holes, and worn out trousers and single shoe. Her warm brown eyes rested on his grey.

"Who're you?" she asked, unexpectedly stern as she gazed him up and down one last time. "Where are your parents?"

"Can you help me?" Red asked quietly, trying to force himself to cry, as shouts of soldiers speaking to passengers blared, "I need to get inside the town."

Hawkeye seemingly glared at him, but her expression softened the longer she saw his scars and cuts.

She gave a small smile.

"All right. You're from the other country, aren't you?" she suddenly patted his head and he mentally groaned, forgetting his mistake. "Don't ask me how I know," she cut in, seeing his sharp look, although he knew the language gave it away. "It's not easy to enter Rush Valley, but if you bear with me, I'll get you in. You'll be on your own after that, though." There was a slight concern gaze in the brown eyes.

 _I knew it._ Red unleashed a false smile. _A good heart yet an unfulfilled person._ It seemed that no matter where he went, people were the same. "That'll be great, miss!" he exclaimed brightly, wondering how she knew his dialect. Who was he kidding, after all? It wasn't like every person who met him would suddenly take him in and nurture him. He ought to tone down before he went on a Mana-complex...

Hawkeye chuckled softly. She rose, and putting a finger to her lips, beckoned Red to follow after her as she strode toward the gigrantic crowds of people who were blocking the entrance to the iron gates.

 _"Hawkeye!"_ The thunderous boom of the Commander's voice struck their hearts and the woman spun around in alarm, seeing his steely eyes set on her. _"What do you think you're doing this time?! Why aren't you in position!?"_

"Commander, I have—" the blond woman froze. She blinked, not seeing the dirty-haired boy nearby.

 _"Hawkeye!"_ Spit went flying as she flinched.

* * *

Red bit his lip and inhaled deeply, thanking Hawkeye for his life. He was terribly lucky; the moment he ran inside the gates and slipped through two guards before they noticed him, Red saw an elderly man being handcuffed and headlocked to the ground in attempt to escape through the entrance. Had he stayed behind and watched for even a spilt second, there was no doubt those handcuffs would've been on his own hands.

Blood dripped onto the pavement.

Red cursed, and then sighed, wiping the wound from the right side of his head that he welcomingly received from an iron latch that rested on the gates. Ruffling his reddish-brown hair, he pulled up the sleeves of his dirty shirt and proceeded to scan the joyous, bubbly town of Rush Valley.

People passing by whispered and stared at him. Children his own age were snickering to each other, the words "That kid looks weird!" sliming out of their spoiled, never-starving, well-fed mouths.

"A-all right, you can do this," he told himself, accidentally gritting his teeth awfully harder than usual, "just look for somebody who has food... " His stomach was aching badly; eating stale hay and apples all week wasn't enough.

The streets were narrow and heavily populated; Red had a hard time naivigating his way through. He was on the verge of tolding himself that he was doing a great job, until he felt a sharp prick and out of nowhere, a tool box flopped on his feet.

Red screamed, but he wasn't the only one—a dark-skinned young girl shrieked in unison with him, her braids shivering as she lifted up the heavy container.

"I'm so sorry!" she apologised feverishly. Red merely gritted his teeth when a tanned man walked up behind the girl, sporting a white bandanna and looking fierce.

"Paninya, you dropped the box again, didn't you? How many times do I have to tell you?" There was a loud whack as the man smacked her head.

Red gulped, seeing the stature of the man, who resembled the Commander from earlier, yet if anything, he was more muscular and looked like one who could smack a child's brains out.

"I know, I just wanted to be helpful!" Paninya grumbled, fixing the wrinkles on her olive-green dress and extending out an apologetic hand to Red. "Are you okay?"

His pale orbs rested on the artificial metal arm, and she noticed, blushing red.

Red glared at her hard, then eyed the tool box, seeing a folded paper note inside. He got up gingerly, saying a short "Yes" before he was thrown off his feet again.

" _Paninya!_ That girl!" The man sighed as he watched the child's retreating back. He heaved a confused and startled Red up with an arm. "Sorry, kid. I haven't taught her much discipline."

Red mumbled inaudibly, seeing the missing paper note. "She steals?" he asked stoically, eyeing the crowds of people.

"I teach her not to, but it can't be helped. I put the money in there anyway, since she's too stubborn to ask me for any favours," the man grunted. He glanced down at Red. "Name's Dominic LeCoulte. Who're you, kid? You stink, by the way."

Well, Red had to dearly admit that he hadn't met a bathtub in months. "I'm Red," he said, tilting his head and taking in Dominic's graying hair that was hidden in the tied bandanna. "You're an old man, aren't you?"

Greatly offended, the man responded, "I'll give you hell if you say that again. I'm only in my forties. Now come with me."

But Red stay rooted to the spot, feeling oddly distant. Then it hit him again for the third time. "You understand me?" he said quietly as Dominic grunted.

"This is no place for an European. I'm only letting this go because you're a child. Once you're taken care of, I'll have to find Paninya," he sighed.

"Why?" Red burst out, walking alongside the man, and he heard a clank every time the left leg stepped. He gazed down, then upwards, and asked, "Is that—"

"Automail, kid. You're slow," Dominic sighed. "Rush Valley is the home to those specializing in automail. It's when we create fake body parts to replace our real ones," he added, seeing Red's curious and naive expression. "You wouldn't know about it. It's not famous on the other side."

"That's amazing," Red exclaimed, and Dominic gave him a startled look.

 _Automail...! Automail!_ He had a sudden englightment and in a frenzy, he pulled on the man's sleeve, ignoring the yelp. "Hey, I want to you ask something, can you automail my arm then?!" He thrust his left sleeve up, revealing his deformity—

Dominic gasped and nearly fell back onto a man passing by, a look of horror plastered on his face. " _What the hell is wrong with your arm?!"_

Red panicked, seeing people stopping in their tracks and gasping at his exposed arm. Children were covering their eyes and crying, mothers were outraged, and men were—

"— _he's one of them! He's a you know what!"_

W-what?!" Red stuttered, backing away as a group of men, Dominic in the lead, were grabbing bricks and wood. "What's going on?"

" _Monster!"_ Yells erupted in the narrow street as, in every direction, weapons were hauled in his face and angry faces were advancing on him—

Red kicked a charging man and evaded an attack from a woman as he stumbled on his feet. He ran aimlessly, people screaming and jumping out of the way, as if terrified of touching him. He managed to escape from the bloodthirsty crowds and sprinted as fast as he could go on for, his heart pounding madly.

He slipped through the waves of the citizens who yelped and turned angrily as his head brushed past their waists.

He managed to arrive at a small home, near the exit of the town, unscathed for what felt like twenty minutes. Red caught his breath, not believing his luck, not believing what a day he had gone through.

The boy sighed.

"Good, it's you. I thought I wouldn't see you again." A familiar voice bounced into his mind, and Red shot his head up.

Hawkeye smiled, her warm brown eyes twinkling in the sun. She was holding a bicycle in her hands, and it looked terribly brand new and fresh—if that was the correct word, Red thought.

"So you got in, but things are bad..." the woman positioned the bicycle right in front of him. "I figured it'll be this way, so that's why I had a plan in mind, but then you ran in before me."

Red blinked, seeing the gleaming vehicle almost welcoming him. "What's this?"

"It's a bike I got for you, so it would help. You look like a tough survivor for someone your age. It'll be some of use to you, I hope."

The child looked into her eyes, and stared. Something was moving inside him—emotions? He couldn't explain this huge rush that was stirring inside him—it wasn't as strong as the first time he met Mana, but it was awfully close.

Then, he froze. Sweat from anxiety rather than the scorching heat was trickling down his forehead as he gulped. He had forgotten to pull down his sleeve, and Hawkeye's brown orbs were fixated on his veinous arm.

"It's alright," was all she said the moment she saw the pink hue on his cheeks and his angry eyes. "I'm not going to ask anything. You best get out of here, now." The way she phrased it was sweet and oddly caring.

He clambered aboard the bicycle as Hawkeye steadied him, feeling embarrassed and at an loss for what to do.

"You see those pedals? Just push down and you'll get the hang of it. Keep your hands on the handles at all times."

With a sickening bang, Red pushed down the pedals and yelped, the swaying of the vehicle making him nauseous.

"You need to learn how to balance. It's not hard."

"Where am I suppose to go now?" Red said, still half-regretting his decision in travelling to this unknown country.

"Actually, I'm here to help. If you exit Rush Valley and ride for an hour or so, you'll come across a small town called Resembool. There's an old woman there who might take you in. She used to be a famous mechanic," Hawkeye explained, taking out a handkerchief and scrubbing his face, to his displeasure. "Pinako Rockbell is her name."

Red mumbled, his face hot. Hawkeye gave him one last beautiful smile before rising and placing her arms behind her in an official stance.

"You best depart now," she told him, and he saw that it was cue to leave.

Red contemplated on riding straight out to the exit without a word. After all, he had been running away from strangers his whole life, and he rarely was attached to anyone, Mana being an exception, and a mistake at that.

The sole reason was because of his inhuman arm.

Red didn't understand how he was born the way he was. He didn't remember much from his birth, either. All he understood and acknowledged was the fact that he was alone, he was abnormal, and he himself would never know how he came to be in this world.

After all, who would want to associate themselves with a kid such as him? He had grown up living from street to street as no orphanage or being could bear his attitude and monstrous arm.

Red glanced up at the orange sky and frowned. Did he have an attitude? It was true that he was not consistently respectful to others. On occasions, he would lash out at adults who crept too close to him, and he would definitely explode with anger at scientists who often saw him on the streets and took him aside, ready to bribe him into their schemes so they could satisfy their hunger with cruel experiments.

Perhaps that was why he was terribly wary of humans despite belonging to the same specie. No matter what he did or said, no one could sympathise. No one _would_ sympathise. That was the coldhearted truth in this brutal world, and Red told himself over and over that he should just very well accept that reality.

 _But... reality itself has miraculous things..._ Red fixed his fringe and smiled slightly at the blond-haired woman, who was surprised by this gesture.

"Hey. Answer a question, will you?"

Her look of surprise widened.

"What is it?"

"How did you make the bike?"

"A friend of mine transmuted it as a favour for me." She gave him a calculating look. "It's alchemy."

 _Alchemy...?_

Red dropped his mouth open, feeling the smooth, unbelievably strong material.

... Alchemy... If he could do that with his arm...

"Thank you," he said to Hawkeye in his hoarse voice. "I... appreciate it." He felt stiff and awkward.

But she smiled.

* * *

•••Prologue III•••

* * *

 _Edward_

* * *

 _Amestris—City of Resembool_

* * *

Knowledge was wonderful. It was the key to the most horrendous ordeals in life. With knowledge, you could dechiper anything—you could gain the ability to do anything. Knowledge was priceless, invaluable, perfect.

He knew that much, even at such a young age.

Edward was the kind of boy who would spend school breaks reading all sorts of books whilst his younger brother would be busy making crafts. He didn't mind—Alphonse was an amazing brother who encouraged him to no end, and Edward dearly hoped he would be able to teach his sibling well whenever he needed to.

He was pleased to discover that with time, Alphonse soon joined him and became just as every curious as he was.

"Brother, I found some more history books," Alphonse's voice waltzed its way into his ear as the school bell rang, signalling the start of lunch.

The duo were at their usual daily routine: researching during breaks. They sneaked into the library and stayed there for the full hour, being cautious to avoid the librarian, who was thankfully always asleep.

"Nice, Al," Edward whispered, his finger brushing against the cover of the first textbook. "Let's see here... 'Alchemy dates far back to many centuries... blah blah blah...' We know all this already."

"Because of Dad's books," Alphonse agreed, reading along. "By the way, didn't Mom tell us to be home early tonight? I don't think we can go to Winry's," he said worriedly, scratching his cheek, a rather frequent habit he did every time there was the fear of rejecting—and witnessing the wrath of—their good friend Winry.

The older brother frowned, remembering the reminder their mother had given them this morning. "Yeah, I think Mom said there's a circus stopping by in town!" Excitement rang in his golden eyes. "But I think we're all going tonight!"

"A circus?!" Alphonse gasped, accidentally dropping a book. "Oops." A loud boom echoed around the small room, yet the librarian continued to snooze away. "A circus... I've never been to one..."

Circuses were rare in the small rural town of Resembool. They were more common on the other side of the continent, and the circus productions were mainly on exceptional terms with exorcists. As they attracted plenty of children and families, large cities had more luxurious privileges.

It was unfair in Edward's opinion, since he and Al had longed to attend a circus for many years after reading about them from books.

Nonetheless, a circus coming to Resembool was most definitely one of their biggest dreams!

"Exorcists make more money than alchemists, right?" Al wondered. "That's why they have nicer towns and everything..."

The smile that was plastered on Edward's face seconds ago disappeared instantly.

"What are you talking about, Alphonse?" he started sharply. "Exorcists aren't anything special. They defy science and alchemy! The only reason they're not shunned aside like alchemists is because of those monsters!"

"You mean _Aku—_ "

"I don't want to even hear that word!" Edward snorted and flipped open a cover. "The government claims that these _A-whatsits_ are everywhere on the other side of the exorcist territory, yet there's not even a single one here in our country!"

"Oh, so...?" Al was clearly not following.

"So it means that these exorcists are making up rumours! Those monsters probably don't even exist!" Edward took a paper and fanned himself, scoffing in the process.

Alphonse watched his golden strands of hair fly upward and down, a very innocent, confused expression sitting on his face.

"Really...?" he pondered after a moment. Then the innocent look enhanced into a very warm, loving smile. "Brother, you really cherish alchemy, don't you?"

Cherish? Edward was not sure if that was the correct term. Somehow, Al always had a way of turning weaknesses into strengths, bad into good.

Alphonse was pure.

He had always been.

Something like a proud, brotherly small smile flicked across Edward's lips. "It's because Mom loves alchemy, Al," he explained. "And she said we were really good."

"I love making Mom happy." Alphonse fiddled with a paper, unconsciously crafting it into a heart. "It's nice to see her smile and laugh so much now."

The two boys lived alone with their mother, Trisha. She was a hardworking, sincere person, one that both sons greatly respected and admired. Their father left the family years ago. Because of that, their mother was easily exhausted running the household herself, but she always managed her time and spent their pastimes with them.

Alphonse was too young an infant to remember their father in great detail, but Edward, deep down, always found his inner voice haunting him, hissing that he will always despise their father for abandoning them.

He couldn't bring himself to reveal his true thoughts to his younger brother, not after seeing how Al had such virtuous, trusting affection for their runaway dad. The same also went for his mother; while he would lash out vulgar words about her husband, Trisha merely smiled and reassured him that their father had a reason to depart.

More than ever, because of his mother's and brother's love, Edward truly wanted to become a family that they were proud of and one that he could protect at any cost. He had a talent for alchemy as his mother told him, and after being thrilled with his newfound skills, devoted his time into honing his abilities and expanding his knowledge.

To his excitement, Alphonse was not far behind in studying alchemy, and the two boys spent their peaceful years researching and experimenting with transmutations, often bringing home the completed successful product to show their beaming mother.

Edward yawned, and fixated his gaze on the book he was reading as Alphonse scurried off into an aisle. He halted, seeing the sentences _'Exorcism, first considered to be a later form of alchemy, then became identified as a spiritual practice of evicting beings from the vessel it possessed. After the civil war resulting in the 18th century alchemists' loss, exorcism became widely recognised and is one of the most influential traditions of mankind. A single exorcist is the universal equivalence of an Amestrian army'._

His golden orbs widened in shock, then anger. One exorcist equalled a military army? They were the most beneficial influences of humanity? Edward inwardly cackled to himself.

These so-called exorcists and their believers were kidding the daylights out of themselves! Religion and gods and the like...

Edward sighed.

His mother once told him that people had opinions, and it was very important to respect them. It didn't matter how much Edward hated certain beliefs; there were people out there that disliked science just as much as he disliked religion.

So all in all, Edward had to constantly remind himself to stay neutral and to mind his business when it came to other perspectives.

"But I'm still going to argue," he said glumly, closing the history book cover. "I'm going to believe in what I believe and what matters most..."

"Brother! I found a really good one!" Al's head was lost amid the large stack he was carrying. The signal for the end of break rang, and both boys stared at each other.

They grinned and ran out of the library on cue, just as the librarian woke up with a clumsy start.

"School's almost over; tonight is the circus!"

* * *

 _Red_

* * *

Red's dying eyes were wet and turning bloodshot as he panted heavily. The grey-red eyes longed at the comfortable, cozy and inviting home that was his first stop, the first structure he had seen since the last two hours.

He steadied himself on the bicycle before dismounting, and at once his legs became jelly and his nerves pounced in every direction inside his body. Red staggered and held onto the handles for support as he scolded himself for not taking a rest along the way; there were trees full of apples and it was a devastating regret that he didn't turn back and feed his hunger.

He shook his head and thought again. Even if he wanted to stop, he was still not very good at controlling the bicycle. The two hour journey to Resembool was anything but peaceful. He could not balance the bike properly and he felt awfully motion sick due to the rapid speed he was riding at.

Still, Red gave his vehicle a proud smile. It felt _amazing_. His heart pounded a bit faster as he thought of Hawkeye, and now Red truly regret not being more kind to the woman. He hoped this Pinako would help him out...

With shaking legs, Red limped to the steps leading to the front porch of the lovely, flower-surrounded home. He sniffed along the way, the smell of cheese, pies and other savoury fragrances showering his nostrils. He suspected the owners were preparing dinner, and his stomach rumbled. It all smelled mouth-wateringly delicious.

Just before he could even lift a foot onto the first step, the front door of the house opened and a brown-haired woman walked out, whistling as she carried a bin of what looked like freshly washed clothes.

Red squawked, as she caught sight of him, her surprised face transforming into an elegant smile.

"Why, hello!" she called out, . "Oh dear, are you okay?!" she suddenly become concerned, seeing his panting and battered clothes.

There was a thud and a scream of shock, the bin of lemon-scented laundry falling to the ground as she ran toward him, her worried voice unable to wake him from his unconsciousness.

* * *

 _Edward_

* * *

The afternoon sun was dying, allowing the evening sunset to arise. Edward and Alphonse burst out of the school building, immediately bumping into their childhood friend Winry, who was waiting at the front entrance for them.

Edward winced, feeling his head as he straightened up from the ground, a girl, a few inches taller than him, repeating the same.

"S-sorry, Winry!" Alphonse's small voice rang timidly.

Winry, an easily hot-tempered yet protective friend, was the same age as Edward and greatly admired the boys for their alchemy works. Her grandmother and Trisha were on great terms as both families lived next door as neighbors, and the boys often came over for dinner. Winry's parents were surgeons and currently in the city of Ishval for a medical mission. She told Edward and Alphonse stories of their achievements from time to time. Both boys were very respectful and considered Winry a very valuable person.

"Where are you two going in such a hurry?" she asked bewilderingly, as Edward walked ahead of the group at a quick pace.

"There's a circus tonight! Our mom says we're all going!"

Winry's sapphire-coloured orbs sparkled with every bit of delight just as theirs. Circuses were amongst the famous talks in small town. "We are?!"

The three of them ran all the way home, talking excitedly about the grand circus. Edward stopped a short mile. People were piling into the centre of town, carrying clothed cages and large tents, dressed in outfits clearly not from the country.

The three children sniffed.

"Wow, it smells good..." Something sweet like sugar wafted through the summer air, causing Edward, Alphonse and Winry to cast fascinated looks at the carriages that were carrying food.

Circuses... Edward was definitely excited. It had been such a long time since there was a celebration in the town; tonight was going to be fun and wonderful! He and Al and their mother could enjoy the circus to their hearts' content!

They hurried home for their quick dinner. Edward and Alphonse waved as Winry stepped inside her own house next door, the sounds of mechanical gearing and clanking occurring, and the boys stepped onto their front porch, sounds of pots and pans hissing.

The smell of lemon wafted through their noses this time, but it was extremely strong and caused both brothers to exchange bewildered looks.

"Did Mom drop a bucket?" Al questioned concernedly, noticing the gigantic puddle on the ground near the front door.

It was unlike their mother to be clumsy. Edward always watched her manage and run the household with precision and dedication. After all, his mother loved cleaning and taking care of them.

He turned the knob, which was unusually open, and made his way inside, calling his mother.

"Ed?" Her voice echoed from the living room, and both boys entered, then stopped fast.

A frail, filthy-looking boy was sprawled on their couch, vomitting into a gigantic bowl usually reserved for baking. Their mother, pink from anxiety perhaps, was patting the child's back.

"Boys, you're home!" she gushed out in relief, as Edward neared, his face full of nothing but shock, Alphonse hiding slightly behind his back.

"M-mom," he began, as the boy gagged and then vommitted another round. "Is he okay?!"

She shook her head and explained that she was about to hang up the laundry outside for the day when the boy was stopping by, and then suddenly collapsed, nearly giving her a heart attack.

"Boys, please get me a cup of warm tea. No—actually, Al, you get the tea—Ed, get me a blanket please."

The family ran all over the house, fetching tea, blankets and food for the nauseous boy, who was groaning and kept puking out voluminous amounts of brown.

* * *

Trisha glanced at the bowl in extreme concern, seeing how watery and thick the vomit was. She washed her hands quickly, turned up the heater in the home, and was torn between on what soup she should prepare for the sickly child.

It was very unlike her to lose her composure! Edward and Alphonse rarely got sick—and to make matters worse, the child was unable to communicate, and Trisha had no way of contacting the guardians, if the child had any. She played with her brown-haired braid in distress, never forgetting how foul and unhealthy the boy looked.

 _He looked so malnourished!_ Trisha banged a knife onto the cutting board in anger. Why was a child in such a state?! Was he working for someone?! She was mortified at the thought of young kids being sent to do dirty labour work. The image of Edward and Alphonse travelling to towns each day on a nonstop daily basis, with no food, no water and no safe transportation mentally scarred her.

 _He needs a big bubble bath after!_ She told herself fiercely, and rolled up the sleeves of her top. Dinner for Ed and Al were done, but since the child was nauseous, she settled for a good, hearty light chicken soup.

Her slippers made squeaks as she jogged all around the kitchen, turning up heats on the stove and chopping away vegetables, determined to cook the new entree as quick as she could. It was five o'clock. Just two more hours until the circus.

Trisha wiped sweat from her hairline as Edward's voice carried its way in from the living room.

"Mom! Come look at this!"

"What's wrong, sweetie?!" she replied anxiously.

Wondering what on earth could have happened, she strode outside in a frenzy, and saw her sons laughing and grinning. Sitting upright on the couch with a fascinated expression on his face was the child, a clown figure made out of metal in his palm.

"Brother made it, Mom!" Al explained.

"Oh, boys, you're so sweet..." Intense relief flooded through her body like an ocean wave as she smiled, tears and emotions swelling up inside her.

The boys doing alchemy... it reminded her so much of him... their father...

She watched the little child squish the clown figure for a moment. Blood flooded into his white cheeks as he stared at it with a curious expression.

Laughing herself, she slipped back into the kitchen and continued to cook, her anxiety cleared and replaced with calmness.

Heartstabbing pain seared through her chest and she nearly yelled out. It rippled to the rest of her body, causing her to stagger. Trisha limped to the cabinet and took out a glass bottle. There were only two pills remaining.

Grimacing, she plopped them into mouth, and waited a few moments for it to kick in.

* * *

Edward prodded the highly-detailed and smoothly crafted clown in the boy's hand, a smug look on his face. "It even has a full-body armour!" he told the boy excitedly.

Alphonse sighed, his poor disfigured clay clown somehow melting away. "I'm just not as good as you yet, Brother..." He beamed brightly at the new companion. "Hi! I'm Alphonse! This is my big brother, Edward!" he exclaimed.

The boy gave a tinniest of nods. Edward wasn't sure what it implied.

"Do you feel better yet?" he asked the boy, who looked up and stared at him eye-to-eye.

Silver to gold.

Edward continued to stare, taking in the stranger's full appearance. He had rather enchanting light eyes, though they were badly bloodshot and drooped often, so he couldn't tell what colour they were. He wasn't sure what colour the boy's hair was either—a bit redder than his mother's he presumed, but he was also uncertain if it was due to it being so filthy.

Alphonse lingered behind him, sitting on the ground as Edward sat on the couch next to the child, who scooted away slightly.

"Hey, do you feel better yet?" he asked again, starting to feel slightly impatient. After all, he, his mother, and Al were running everywhere in the house for this dirty kid who couldn't even say a word of gratitude.

The boy turned his head away. Edward took great notice of how he was covering his left arm with the blankets.

"Hey," he repeated, more loudly this time, though the sound of the pots and clanks in the kitchen were booming, "can you hear me?"

There was a scoff.

Alphonse's brown eyes were travelling back and forth between the boy and his brother, his mouth opened slightly.

Edward clicked his tongue in annoyance. He couldn't believe how disrespectful this kid was! He shot the boy an angry look, but then his face softened, seeing cuts, bruises, and slashes everywhere.

It was like the time that Alphonse had fallen from a tall tree and gotten himself hurt. Edward couldn't help but sprang into his older brotherly role. Those wounds looked heavy and severely painful.

He dragged the boy off the couch, who yelled out the moment he touched his right arm. Edward blinked, not letting go. It was uncomfortable gripping the arm—he was extremely skinny and the golden-haired boy was sure he felt more bones than meat.

"So you do have a voice!"

 _"Let go of me!"_ a harsh, horribly raspy voice finally uttered in human language, in a strange dialect he never heard of but could comprehend well enough. Edward winced, expecting a more timid, Alphonse-like tone.

"I will in a bit." He wrung the child onto his back—he was _unbelievably_ light—and at once, felt nauseous from the foul ordour. _This kid hasn't bathed in months_... Edward held his breath while the boy thrashed and even began pounding his back.

"Don't, Alphonse!" he ordered his younger sibling who was about to take action. "I've got this! Tell Mom we'll be ready for dinner soon!"

As his brother nodded and went off, Edward burst up the stairs, trying to hold his breath in for as long as he could—while the boy suddenly gagged—and vomitted on him.

* * *

 _Red_

* * *

The colour of pure light. That was how Red saw his hair.

Through the extremely bubble-filled bathtub, Red could see him staring sternly if he were to peek from behind the curtains. At first, when they entered the bathroom, Red badly needed to throw up into the toilet as the golden-haired boy filled the tub. He was then splashed into the sweet, clean soapy water, and within seconds, the tub became muddy and grubby.

He saw the boy yell—in frustration or horrification—and turned on the faucet. Hot water from above showered down, rinsing his hair and face. The boy ordered Red to remove his clothes while he yanked the curtains forward.

Red attempted to jump out and escape many times, but was confronted by the stern-looking boy, who crossed his arms and glared at him, his eyes hissing words of unimaginable terror. Which was ironic because he was shorter than Red, and even though Red admitted he himself was weaker, he was more experienced in physical fights.

He did not want to hurt the boy by any means, particularly because he felt weak with hunger at the moment, but more significantly because the stern boy hadn't said nor done anything hostile toward him. Red wasn't the type to attack innocent humans unless he had a particular reason.

And so Red was left to sit in the hot fruity-scented bathtub, his hair more lighter than ever and his skin smooth and soft. He smelled his hands for awhile, and deciding that he may as well enjoy this lifetime opportunity, laid back and closed his eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in his life. It felt as if he was flying in a hot sea...

"What's your name?" the stern-faced boy spoke up, his voice loud now that they were out of earshot of the kitchen.

Red saw his silhouette through the curtains, and sat up slowly, his breathing calmer than he have ever felt. He was not fond of speaking to kids his age; they stared at him oddly, and whenever he showed them his left arm, they would run away and scream. On a whole, he preferred adults. Mana conditioned him terribly well, after all.

Yet as he sunk his deformed flesh into the bottom of the bubble-filled tub, he saw gorgeous golden eyes gazing at him curiously from the gap of the curtain and the wall.

"My name's Edward Elric," he introduced himself properly. Shock ran through his body as he realised the boy was speaking in the same, clear dialect as him. Red saw him grabbing a clean towel and hanging it on top of the rod. "I've never seen my mom work so hard just to make sure somebody is okay. So I hope you can come out and have dinner with us to make her happy. After that, you're free to go wherever, I guess..." he trailed off, sounding as if he was unsure if he said the correct thing.

Red thought he sounded very intelligent and mature for his age. He never met kids who spoke as comfortably as adults.

Inhaling a deep breath, and making waves with his hand, he replied, "I don't really have a name, but you can call me Red."

The armoured clown that was transmutated out of metal laid on the bathroom counter. Red initially wanted to toss it out; it reminded him terribly much of Mana. But it truly was beautiful, and he didn't have the coldness of a heart to dispose such a masterpiece.

"Red?" Edward repeated, trying to taste the name as if it had a specific flavour. "That sounds a bit too inanimate to be a name to me."

Red made an angry noise and burst out before he could help himself. "What's it to you?!"

Edward yelped and tripped at his sudden shout, hitting the door and falling on his butt before scowling. "Why are you so mad?! I'm just stating my opinion!" he sounded just as angry.

With his dark-blood monstrous arm wrinkling from the hot water, Red, fuming with a rage that he couldn't explain, stood up, not caring that he was fully naked and the curtains were drawn aside partially.

He saw Edward's mortified face, and when Red looked down, he screamed, snatching the curtain and attacking Edward, wrapping him underneath it.

The light-haired boy kicked him in the face and Red toppled backwards into the bathtub. He slid on a barsoap inside the water and fell, his head bumping into the shower wall.

 _Clank_. The shower rod holding the curtains tumbled down suddenly and crashed onto Edward.

* * *

 _Edward_

* * *

Edward clenched his jaw as Trisha patted the boy— _Red_ , he clearly remembered with pure bitterness—on the head.

He knew that little brat was _hiding_ something! It was his arm!

He scowled as she urged Red to eat whatever he pleased, after seeing that he devoured the enormous pot of chicken soup and was still famished. He figured he'd confront Red about the issue later; something was definitely up.

Pastas, chicken, pies, stews and other delicacies were placed elegantly on the dining table, along with Edward's and Alphonse's favourite: their mother's homemade quiche.

The Elric boys dug in spontaneously, filling their stomachs before the awaited circus. Trisha, however, kept sending Red anxious glances as he sat there in Edward's green long-sleeved shirt and blue trousers, which Edward didn't approve, looking uneasy and almost as bitter as Edward felt.

She had brushed his clean, gleaning hair, and they could now see that it was a stunning mixture of dark red and violet brown, the colour of grape wine.

Trisha cooed over the beautiful colour, despite Red's mumbling. Edward shot his mother a jealous look while Alphonse watched sadly, seeing Trisha's and Red's similar hair shade.

"Eat up, eat up!" Trisha told the unsmiling boy seated next to her. She spooned pasta onto his plate and Edward noticed the yearning in those pale, silvery eyes as they scanned the food.

"Mom, I want chicken," he suddenly announced, thrusting his plate forward. Alphonse blinked. He took a spatula and was about to help in when Edward cast him a meaningful glare.

"Alright, sweetie." Trisha took the spatula Alphonse abandoned and delighted his plate with creamy sizzling chicken. Edward smirked as Red watched with rather intense staring.

There was a thud on the table as his mother placed a box of fresh cow milk in front of him.

The golden-haired boy immediately inwardly shrieked and pushed the carton away from him. He _hated_ milk. Surely his mother knew that!

Trisha saw this.

"Ed, you need to drink your milk!" she exclaimed, passing two cartons to Red and Alphonse, who accepted without any complaints.

Edward scowled again. He couldn't stand the idea of his mother babying him, especially in front of another kid. "No, I don't!" he screeched back, sliding it far from him. "You know I _hate_ milk!"

Red sipped his milk box loudly, his pale eyes still targeted on Edward.

Trisha pouted. She sighed, eventually giving up under her eldest son's zealous glare. "I know, but since Red here is drinking it so well—"there was a beaming smile—"I figured you'll lapse out of that little rebellious stage!"

"Not going to be possible." Edward reverted his glare back on Red. A kid like him was already winning his mother's heart. _How?_ he wondered. He briefly did a short metacognition: his name was Red, he appeared out of nowhere like a stray, hungry dirty tabby cat, and there was something about his arm. Was it not _suspicious_? Was it not _strange_? Yet, what was stranger was the fact that his mother was being _so_ cordial, _so_ considerate, _so_...

Edward's tongue was seething as his teeth clenched, watching Trisha smile at the youngling.

 _So motherly..._

Upset, Edward stood up, nearly knocking over his chair. He stormed out of the dining room to everyone's surprise. Alphonse became worried, setting down his fork as their mother sighed once more.

"I'm sorry about Ed," he heard his mother speaking. "He's not usually like this. He's a good boy."

Those words stabbed him in the heart like a rigid arrow. Trisha appeared in the doorway, her face concerned and reminiscent of some distant past. Feeling like a brat, Edward walked over to her and she embraced him, ruffling his hair just the way he loved.

"I love you and Alphonse," her sincere, caring voice feathered through his hair into his ear. "You are both amazing sons. Please go back to the table and apologise, okay? Al is worried."

"... Okay... I'm sorry."

He saw Red glancing at him once more as they re-entered. Sure enough, Edward saw his younger brother sniffing slightly and grinned, giving a thumbs up in reassurance.

He reverted his gaze to the strange child before him and coughed, feeling his mother's eyes on his back.

"Sorry," he apologized, growing pink as he sat down.

"Perfect," Trisha beamed, and she turned to Red. "How about you like to come with us to the circus tonight? I'm sure the boys won't mind." She gave Edward a pointed look, as if saying this was his redemption for the incident earlier.

"The circus?" Red gasped. "There's a circus here?! I thought they were banned!"

Trisha and Alphonse were surprised at his dialect, but Edward responded coolly, "Sure there is. How can they be banned if they're happening?"

But then the boy shut up, and didn't speak for the rest of the dinner, much to his fury.

* * *

 _Red_

* * *

He wondered if he had misheard Mana telling him that circuses in Amestris was banned, however, although he couldn't trust Mana's illogical rationality at times, the man had a knack for retrieving reliable sources. Thus, if Mana was correct, how could there be a circus occurring at this moment?

"Hey, are you coming or what?" Edward's bitter voice streaked through him, causing a scowl. He would never get along with this kid, Red decided.

He trotted out of the house with the Elrics, and saw the boys running next door to greet a girl with similar hair colour. He frowned as Trisha saw him.

"Ah, that's Winry, their friend."

It was a nice sight, he had to admit, as he saw the three friends huddled together and talking excitedly about the circus. He saw bright blue eyes whisk at him, and a second later, Winry bounced up, strands of blond hair dancing as she beamed.

"I'm Winry! What's your name?"

"Red," he replied, taking notice of her optimistic tone and confidence.

Winry blinked, and smiled. "I hope we can all get along!" she exclaimed, stepping on Edward's foot, who was looking sour.

Red stayed behind of the group, his eyes following the backs of the Elrics and Winry, all of them chatting away enthusiastically. As they walked onto the main streets of Resembool, he could see Trisha occasionally turning her head to check on him, afraid that he would escape. Red didn't know why he was lurking around these people; Hawkeye had insist he go find this Pinako Rockbell, but he felt as if he owed Trisha. The woman had nurtured him out of her own will, perhaps even more than Mana... and what kind of human would he be, to depart without a word of gratitude?

"Always respect your elders," he murmured.

* * *

 _Resembool— Town Square_

* * *

 _"We're here!"_ Edward and Alphonse shouted. Red slumped out of his thoughts and gasped, seeing the town square suddenly crowded with masses of people. His pale eyes were reflected on neon lightbulbs that were flashing all around.

"Boys, stay together!" Trisha's voice was clear amid the great noise, as carriages and horses were arriving, and tents were blowing up to its towering structure. _There really is a circus happening in town..._ Red couldn't believe it. He found himself wandering further from everybody, and he couldn't tell if it was Edward who was calling out to him.

There was something that was driving him to walk somewhere. Toward somebody.

 _"Red! Where are you going!?"_ Edward was shouting, but he was already out of sight.

He accidentally bumped into an Amestrian woman, who dropped her tray of cupcakes.

"Ouch!" Red rubbed his left arm, feeling a scaly hot burn on his deformed flesh that a cupcake fell on. The lady scowled, obviously displeased at the waste, and hurried away, muttering crudely. He bent down to retrieve the fallen carrot cupcake, and saw familiar sneakers.

"Don't eat that!" Edward snatched the pastry and threw it inside a trash bin. Red scowled, wondering why the kid followed him.

"Where are you going this time?" Edward demanded, grabbing his right arm and holding him back.

"Let go of me," Red shot back, freeing himself and giving the light-haired boy a hard stare. He suddenly gasped, seeing an overweight, clown with a brown moustache and stubby face. The clown's eyes then met his—

Cosimov dropped his cigar, and coughed, his face scrunching up and turning red as a tomato—

"RUN!" Red seized the utterly bewildered Edward and tore off at a sprint, galloping through the crowds of citizens. _No wonder this all made sense!_ Red gritted his teeth so hard that he felt a chip. _Mana was right! Cosimov must've trespassed into Amestris! This is all wrong!_

 _"What's happening?! Why are we running?!"_ Edward yelled. Red steered him into an empty tent and both boys paused to catch their breath.

Golden orbs widened. "W-what's wrong with your arm?"

Frozen, Red moved his head down. Sure enough, he had grabbed Edward with his cursed arm, and it was now exposed in the bright lit red-white tent. A hundred things were playing in his mind—hundreds of emotions...

"Nothing's wrong with it," Red said quietly, avoiding his eyes. "I was born like this."

His answer seemed to have struck some chord in Edward, who gulped, taking in its full appearance. "Born like that...? But..." he slowly trailed off. "Don't tell me you're a..."

"I'm a what?" Red asked coldly, confused.

"You're an..." Edward stopped. "... _Akuma_ , aren't you..." There was a shaking in his whisper.

 _Akuma?_ He heard that term somewhere... "No. I don't know what that is," he replied, and to his relief, Edward seemed convinced.

"Oh, that's good, then. But you're sure some odd kid... mind if I take a closer look?" he asked, seemingly forgetting the reason they were sheltered.

"I thought you disliked me," he told Edward grudgingly, but showed the deformed flesh anyway.

The Elric sniffed and prodded it gently with a fingertip. "Doesn't smell... it does feel different, though. And I dislike you," he said bluntly, "but I like science, so I couldn't help it."

Red bit his lip, displaying his knack of ignorance and embarrassment. "Science?"

"Sure. I want to be a great alchemist, so I gotta study," Edward rubbed his nose.

Red stared at him for several long moments, finally uttering, "You're an alchemist...?"

Surprise flickered on Edward's face, and he even became offended. "That clown I transmuted for you. That's alchemy."

Reaching into his pockets, Red pulled out the beautiful armoured clown figure, at a loss for words.

Hawkeye's bike... Edward's clown...

"But why are we running again?" Edward demanded, breaking his thoughts apart. "There was a man following us, right?"

Red sighed. "It's a long story," he said bitterly.

Grey eyes fell to the ground, hearing the footsteps of the circus goers enjoying the event—whether it was illegal, Red didn't care anymore. In fact, he didn't want to care about anything anymore. This had been his life all around: escaping, escaping, and escaping. In the end, people always managed to find him and were determined to break him apart. It was just bad luck as his fortune, Red sourly decided. Why was he feeling this way? Didn't he want to learn about alchemy? Red stared sadly at the clown doll. What was causing this pain inside him?

"Are you okay?" Edward was crossing his arm and peering sideways at him. "You look sick."

"Hey, Edward." The boy was startled at the first ever mention of his name. "Do you think I belong anywhere?"

For once, Edward's expression became timid and rather awkward. "I guess. Everyone belongs somewhere," he said. "My mom worries about you since you're about my age. So that's why she did all these things for you today," he added, hoping he sounded helpful.

"Your mom is nice," Red said slowly. "All of you are. I think... you're an amazing family." He was feeling stiff and uncomfortable again. He wasn't good with compliments.

Pink hues appeared on Edward's cheeks. "So you do say nice things after all." He grinned. "You know what? I take back what I said earlier. I think I like you just a tiny bit now."

Red merely gazed at him, and then back down at the doll.

 _"Brother! Brother!"_

 _"Alphonse?!"_ The two boys exchanged worried looks and burst out of the tent. Alphonse was running limply toward them, tears streaking his face and his blood drained. Edward ran to catch his brother who nearly stumbled, and asked, "What's wrong, Al!? Where's mom and Winry!?"

"M-mom's..." the younger Elric coughed, and Red pounded on his back. "Mom's not okay," he wheezed. "She collapsed... she's not moving..."

 _"What?!"_

Screams were booming in the town square, and flashes of orange light were erupting in every direction a distance away. The moon was suddenly blocked by an unknown moving black mass that was blasting bombs toward their targets. Red and Edward gasped, their hands shaking as they saw more masses of lifeforms gathering up in the sky.

 _"It's the monsters!"_ Edward gasped. He tried to heave Alphonse up, and with Red's help, the three boys ran toward the town square.

 _Monsters... could these be the Akumas?_ Red could hear more screams ahead of him.

A jingle resounded throughout the chaotic night, and it caused the cursed boy to stop in his tracks.

"Red, what are you doing?!"

He knew that sound... anywhere.

Red turned around slowly, his heart pounding faster than ever, his cheeks flushing harder than before.

Mana, in a dark formal tuxedo and top hat, was looking straight at him in the eyes.

* * *

 _How... how could..._

 _"Mana...?"_

 _"Red, get back! Are you crazy?!"_

 _"What are you doing here, Mana...?"_

 _"Al, hold him back!"_

 ** _—static_**

 _"Allen, is that you?"_

 _"H-huh? I'm Red..."_

 _"Oh Allen, I was so—"_

 ** _—crackle_**

 _"—worried that something happened to you... I even made a grave after Cosimov beat you—"_

 _"Red, get away from that guy!"_

 _"I'm Red... you don't remember me?"_

 _"Alphonse, help me out!"_

 ** _—static_**

 _"Brother, the-the man's dead!"_

 _"Don't look! Get the carriage off him! Red, snap out of it!"_

 **A beautiful blue light.**

 **–crackle**

 _"Good evening~!"_

 _"Who... are you...?"_

 _"Would you like me to revive Mana Walker?"_

 ** _—static_**

 _"Shut the hell up! Don't touch him! Leave my brother and my friend alone!"_

 _"Brother, stop it, you're bleeding!"_

 _"WE'RE ALL GETTING OUT OF HERE ALIVE! WE HAVE TO FIND MOM!"_

 _"It seems that you still don't know~"_

 _"W-what?!"_

 _"Would you like me to revive Trisha Elric~?"_

 ** _—static._**

* * *

 _Note_

 **This is the end of the prologue! I had a lot of fun typing this, although the ending is a bit bland because I did get a writer's block.**

 **I'm not sure if I** **want to continue this, or leave it as a mysterious one-shot.**

* * *

He clambered aboard the train in a swift move, his dark boots making an unnecessary squeak as he continued his pursuit toward a compartment. He was terribly accustomed to journeying on trains now that it did not take him more than a few seconds to find his way. Aside from occasionally falling asleep on the hard, stiff seats, he found himself drawn to the luxurious foods served on shining carts, and always tipped the attendant extra for dealing with his monstrous appetite and horrendous orders.

Laughing to himself silently and humming, he slid open the glass compartment door and snuggled inside the seat, sighing. He removed his white leather gloves and ran a hand through his snowy hair, absentmindedly running a finger through the blood-like, sharp scar that always slept under his eye and became a permanent element of his flesh.

"What shall I have today?" he retrieved the menu that was placed elegantly on the small table in front of him, and flipped it open, scanning through his choices and already drooling.

He looked up with an innocent confused expression as a commotion was taking place some compartments away.

An attendant was ushering two people down the hall, and out of curiosity, he opened the door and peeked his head out.

 _"What do you think you're doing!"_ He was surprised to see a short boy amongst the two victims, whose braided blond hair was unravelling as he thrashed childishly at the female attendant. _"We have every right to take this First Division compartment!"_

He scratched his cheek, seeing an enormously tall body armour accompanying the boy, though he suspected it was most likely a human inside.

 _"You have no proof or letter! Please leave the train or pay for the regular seating!"_

 _"Damn it, woman! Can't you see?!"_

Feeling that he was intruding, he retreated back into his comfortable, peaceful compartment and slid the door closed.

 _"I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist! Parents use my name to get their kids to behave, damn it!"_

 _"Now, Brother, just drop it..."_

"Man. Fine. Let's just go, Al."

The golden-haired boy stopped, seeing him through the glass door.

They exchanged stares.

He began to sweat drop, uneasy at this long encounter.

"Brother?"

"...Yeah." The boy turned away, his red jacket gleaming. "Let's go, Alphonse."

"What was that?" Allen Walker murmured to himself, shaking his head. As he sat back down, a grey item flopped out of his Exorcist coat.

An elegant, beautiful clown wearing an armour laid on the floor.

"Oh..." he picked it up and stared at it. "I forgot I had this..."

He looked out the glass door.

"It looked almost identical to that armour I just saw..."

Allen Walker blinked and chuckled softly. "Oh, well. Must be a coincidence, I guess," he said, smiling.


	2. The First Record

_Note_

* * *

 ** _I have decided to continue this story._**

 ** _This picks up from the alternate ending in the prologue._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy!_**

* * *

 _D.G(-)man_ _belongs to Katsura Hoshino, and Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa._

* * *

A Bookman exists to record.

That's all we do.

We see, we watch. We remember, we write. We move on.

There's no attachment involved. Intimacy. Parental. Friendship. They're forbidden.

You take one step out of that border...

It's game over.

But this is a secret.

It's a pretty, messed up world out there. It's harsh. I couldn't help but find myself eventually leaning on the people I was suppose to observe.

Without even noticing it, I became a spector of this brutal history. The era full of alchemy and exorcism... has some darkness. It's a miracle I'm even alive.

It's not all fun and games. There's suffering, too. There's unbearable pain and even hatred. Right and wrong. Bad and good.

Humans truly do contain complicated ambitions, goals, and feelings. The power of alchemy and exorcism does ruin us in the end.

Words can't describe anything. They're powerful, but it doesn't come near.

This is the First Record. The beginning of how it all started.

* * *

•••The First Record•••

* * *

 _Allen_

* * *

 _Eight years later._

* * *

 _Amestris_ — _En route to East City_

Deciding to hide his deformity before anyone would see, he placed his favourite accessory back on. White leathered gloves slipped into a pocket and fetched a piece of paper. The springtime breeze that flew inside from the window of the compartment was very relaxing. The gentle roar of the train outside sounded as good as soft music.

Allen Walker yawned. The scar on his cursed eye appeared larger than ever, causing a stark contrast against his gentle silver eyes.

"The attendant sure is late," he mused softly, scratching his head and fancying a mango custard at the moment. He peeked up at the glass door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who he was on cordial terms with. There was a small commotion earlier, if Allen recalled correctly. A boy and a tall suit of armour were causing a ruckus over authorization to use the First Division compartment, a special privilege available to only the highest ranked State Alchemists.

That was terribly unfair in Allen's opinion; he heard rumours that the large compartment contained luxurious seats which performed massages, and a whole five course meal was included at no additional cost. Be as that may, he was only still a seedling compared to the State Alchemists, and in any case, it was best not to cross ways with an alchemist at all, given his recent occupation as an official Exorcist.

The boy closed his eyes for a brief moment, as passengers walked by his door, sending scornful looks in his direction. This did not faze him in the slightest; he knew that, as the only Exorcist on the entire train, there were sure to be whispers and disapprovals. Had he not been granted special access from the Governor of Amestris himself, he would have no doubt been kicked out of the country in less than a second.

Allen Walker had his own reasons, his own drive, his own passion, for being an Exorcist. Of course, he was friendly and kind to the public, especially to the citizens of Amestris, but he wouldn't dare breathe an air of superiority towards them. It would simply be toxic. The Amestrians still viewed Europeans as inferior, despite the latter's tremendous advancement in technology and multiple attempts to reunite the two countries. The hatred against the Exorcists was to be expected.

 _Akumas_ had spawned unimaginable births in all of Europe over the last decade, and Amestris itself was now victim to these terrors. The Governor, whether out of spite or desperation, called for a temporary cease fire with the Black Order. Many were not pleased about this. _Führer King Bradley is a fool,_ people uttered. _How many times have we called for a truce with the exorcists, only for them to betray us and kill our people off?_

 _Indeed,_ Allen thought to himself quietly, as he opened his eyes once more. _We're all fools here._ There was only one man who was the cause for this devastation, this chaos, this endless suffering. _While we sit back and argue, he's only progressing farther toward his goal..._

The gentleness in the silver eyes vanished and became replaced with a hard, bitter expression, just as it always did when Allen thought of the Millennium Earl.

Considered classified information and highly protected by the Black Order, the Millennium Earl was the breeder and mastermind behind the _Akumas._ European police officials claimed this thing was simply a legend, a myth, a tale of old to ward off children and the like, and never acknowledged such an existence. There was no record of a living being coming to contact with such a creature, and as such, this information was never revealed to the State Alchemists.

 _But..._ _more importantly..._ The bloodlike scar was intense against his very pale skin. _What the hell is this..._ Allen squinted an eye, trying to make use of the handwriting his assumed Supervisor had sprawled in a flourish before he had a postman deliver to him.

 ** _Allen, forgive me for sending you off before we even met, but please see to the East City, immediately. An Akuma attack has erupted just at the border, but the military has kept it secret. It seems that they can't take it down, so they will expect you to arrive within three days while they defend against it. Please hurry as soon as you can. I won't be able to guide you over the transmitter since our operations don't work in Amestris, but I trust you will be fine. The Governor has granted you special permission to enter the territory until you complete your task. If there's anything you need, the Colonel should assist you._**

 ** _Don't forget what we spoke about._**

 ** _Komui Lee_**

"How exactly did I get myself into this?" the Exorcist sighed, causing a strand of snowy hair to flop upwards.

He regained his serious composure however, as he reread his instructions once more. Allen had not personally meet Komui Lee, Chief Officer and Head of the European Branch of the Black Order, just yet. There were certainly arrangements, and Allen's previous guardian, Cross Marian, made sure the boy would be placed in this man's arms before his traitorous departure. To make it worse, the boy's only source of communication with Komui Lee was through a golden earring transmitter, in which Cross left for him.

It was difficult at first, for Allen to trust the new man, but as the year went by, he grew comfortable and was even relieved to hear the scientist's whimsical voice on the other line during his darkest times. Trust between the two was not the strongest, but he was happy he wasn't left stranded on his own anymore.

"Don't forget what we spoke about... I'm sure he's referring to the Innocence," Allen muttered lowly.

Innocence were the exorcists' true source of power. It was their everything. Those selected by God were the Chosen Ones, granted the immeasurable ability to exorcise with Innocence.

It was not at all like alchemy, a skill attained by perseverance, experience, patience, infinite effort and knowledge. It was due to this that conflict arose between the two groups; Alchemists could not understand the reasoning behind exorcism. To make matters worse, Innocence was also top secret, hidden from the sharp, calculating eyes of Amestris and other countries due to its illogical power that could change the vortex of space. Refusing to reveal their true origins and research, Exorcists were shunned from every country, and treated as bloodthirsty and inhumane for their greed.

Allen decided he shouldn't pry too deeply into conflict between the two groups. He respected State Alchemists just as much as his fellow Exorcists, yet it would be nice, pleasant even, if he didn't receive any of those harsh, disgusted looks everywhere he went...

 _ **BOOM!**_

He hit the floor with a bang. In utter confusion, the train bellowed with sudden screams from the passengers in the main section. Allen hastily pulled himself up, listening hard as scuffling of feet and thuds echoed loudly. Hearing familiar sounds of pistols and explosives, Allen hurried out of his compartment, and covered his nose with the collar of his coat.

"Good grief, there's at least a hundred people in here," he muttered in disapproval, as the gigantic fumes of smoke furled outside the nearest window. A scream erupted from the southern end of the train. "That's where the attendants and conductor are!" he took off, drawing his hood over his face.

Two men ahead dressed in black barricaded the entrance. Allen wasn't accustomed to assault missions, and decided to jump into a quick, tragic solo opening act. When the first bodyguard caught sight of him, the hooded Exorcist stopped short, gasped convincingly, and then, to their surprise, clutched his chest with his hands and toppled to the floor.

"Hey, what's wrong with him?" the other brown-haired man snarled. He was the weakest looking of the two, with dark sunglasses and a purple undershirt beneath the black blazer. "Damn, just shoot him quick, will you?" he commanded to his partner, who took action.

Inwardly cursing at his failure, Allen sprung up into a flip and kicked the incoming man right in the jaw. "Oh!" the man cried out in alarm, as a tooth flew onto the ground. It seemed to feel agonizing—Allen didn't kick hard at all; perhaps he had a gum disease. The Exorcist, feeling almost sorry, bowed his head before turning to the brown-haired guard.

The man made a disgruntled sound as his crybaby of a partner continued to wail. "Who the hell are you?! Don't interfere with our hijacking!"

Allen was genuinely surprised.

"Hijacking? Why would you do such a thing?" he argued. "There's innocent people on board!"

" _Heh! Who cares?_ We, the Blue Squad, have more important matters to attend to!" A black pistol flaunted in his face. " _Prepare to meet your end!"_

The Exorcist threw a deck of playing cards, sidestepped and dodged the bullet, which successfully got trapped in a _Joker_ card. The man screamed as the boy appeared out from the sandstorm of cards and pinched a nerve in his neck. In a blink of an eye, he slipped to the floor, unconscious.

"I better be careful with these." Allen stared at his fallen cards. It was a favourite add-on of his, created by the scientist. The cards had the ability to turn hard as steel when needed. "Komui doesn't have much left in stock, let alone create more for me." He stared at the two unconscious attackers and scratched his cheek, though a ghost of a sly smile peeked from under his hood. _Thanks for being the closing act_ , he thought, as he ran off.

* * *

 _Edward_

* * *

A bullet ripped through the hem of his red coat.

He was not happy at this.

"You got some nerve," Edward Elric hissed at the Blue Squad member, a muscular bald man hosting a giant rifle. They were battling on top of the train, and it was definitely not his cup of tea. His brother Alphonse was most likely ambushing another member down below in the main section while protecting the rest of the passengers.

It was a perfect, beautiful, damn day.

"What am I suppose to tell my Colonel? You'd think I want to wear those trashy blue uniforms?" Edward drawled to the man, as the wind blew in their faces amid the roaring of the moving train.

"Tell your Colonel this: release Bald, our leader." The man was smirking. It made him look hideous, which was fine with Edward, since he favoured some nice entertainment at the moment.

"Bald? Where's he hiding, then?" Edward glared. "He's just big talk if he's letting you low lives hold a finger against Major Hakuro."

Blood dripped as the man cursed. A spear had lodged in his right thigh from below.

"That's payback for waking me up in a disgusting fashion. And it seems like my brother stalled enough time for me." He smirked. "So there's 12 of you, huh? That's nothing." The Alchemist clapped his hands and the effect was immediate—

Edward went flying off the top into a coal car as a wave of bullets bombarded his way from behind his back; another Blue Squad member had joined the fight from the other side. Having transmuted his arm into a small shield in time, the Elric cursed as he snatched onto a ladder on the side of the train.

"Looks like you're having a little trouble!" the same muscular man roared with laughter as his partner reloaded.

A scream blared however, as the partner ducked his head from a small cannon ball that exploded from Edward's poor alchemistic gun. The muscular man stopped laughing, and hurried back into the train in fear.

 _Damn, that cannon wasn't a good idea._ Edward gritted his teeth as the bullets that stuck into his arm fell out. _This isn't looking good. I better act fast!_ He held onto the ladder and ascended until he heard a click. _The train is spilting?!_ His foot lost grip on the step and he nearly fell when a whizzing card suddenly pierced through his hood like a dart, securing him in place. It caused a wonderful dent at that.

A hanging Edward gaped in shock as a voice called out.

"Are you okay?"

The Elric turned his head to see a hooded figure peering at him from the engine window.

"Hey!" he said. "Thanks. I was in a pitch there."

"You're welcome." The newcomer seemed to be busy turning a huge steering wheel. Edward briefly wondered who he was, because his voice sounded oddly familiar.

He had no time to dwell on this, however. The Elric screeched as the black train began to sway. " _What do you think you're doing!"_ he yelled incredulously, as he swung back and forth like a doll.

"There's still some of them coming this way!" The stranger thrust the wheel to the left—and Edward could tell he regretted it, because the wheel broke off, leaving a hiss and trail of gas. "Oops."

" _You broke the wheel?!"_ Edward hung onto the ladder for dear life as the now dysfunctional train picked up speed and started strutting. "You're practically useless!" he shouted at the stranger, who flinched, clearly embarrassed.

Transmuting his arm into a blade, the alchemist stuck it through the body of the train and climbed himself into the window where the newcomer was. He was surprised to see the male in a long black-white Organization coat.

"Hey!" Edward greeted him again. "I'll help you out there." He nodded at the disattached steering wheel in the boy's gloved hands. A flash of sapphire light blinded the room and both of them breathed a sigh of relief as the new steering wheel rotated normally once more.

"That's amazing," Edward heard the stranger mutter under his breath. "Wait, you're a Stat—?"

 _"Incoming!"_ The Elric slammed his head down and yanked the boy with him. He recognized Alphonse's drain pipe as an ocean flood swept through the compartment from above. _"That Alphonse! What's he trying to do, wash us all away?!"_ he resurfaced, coughing and feeling as if he gained twenty pounds.

"Are you okay?" The stranger had grabbed him by the hood. "We should swim out of here," he coughed, and Edward caught sight of white hair before the hood was lowered again. "Who is this Alphonse? Could it be that armour that was with you?"

"Yeah," Edward confirmed, swimming to the door and grasping the handle. Within a second, the two males emerged onto dry land of the engine room. "I think he assumed the captain or other terrorists were steering the train. That probably means he's being outnumbered..." Ed ran off to the staircase that led downstairs to the main lobby of the train. "I gotta go!" He did not realize the stranger was following him.

 _"Halt!"_ They were met by an angry-looking man that Edward had no trouble recognizing as another member of the Blue Squad. _"Surrender yourselves!"_

A whizzing card pinned the astonished man into a wall from behind the Elric's ear, and he turned around to see a deck of playing cards in his companion's hands. "What in the...?" he blinked, as the newcomer shuffled the deck with pure ease.

"I'll help you out!" he exclaimed, seeing Edward's flabbergasted expression, which then turned into a small grin.

 _"Looks like it's not a bad day after all!"_ Ed jumped down a shattered hole in the ground and found himself face to face with his surprised brother and tied up members of the Blue Squad.

* * *

"Brother, you're late," Alphonse remarked. "Everything else is done. Their leader escaped from the train, though. But aside from that, the General is safe. Officer Hughes is on his way."

Edward scratched his glistened head and sighed. "You're kidding. Oh well. And this all started because they wanted a release for their stupid leader." He gave a scorching look at the terrorists, then turned around, expecting to see his companion. "Sorry, looks like—wait, where is he?"

His brother stared at the empty space beside him. "Who?"

"There was a guy in a long coat." Edward frowned. "He saved me out there. Where'd he go?"

Strange. The newcomer felt oddly familiar to him, as if they had met before. There was something about his voice too... it definitely struck some fuzzy memory that Ed could never recall. "Weird," he muttered. He glanced up to see Alphonse gazing at him with concerned red eyes, and he laughed it off as they made their way back to the main lobby, where all the worried passengers were seated.

* * *

"I guess it's a good thing we were on board this train today, don't you think, Brother?" Alphonse was speaking, but the older sibling was not paying attention. Again, he was in deep thought about the stranger from earlier. After telling Al he had to take a washroom break, the short boy strode all over the train, but to his frustration, the newcomer had disappeared. It was definitely odd; a car compartment was disconnected and must of have been destroyed during the Blue Squad battle. Edward grew slightly worried; he owed the boy gratitude, and he had done just that, but there was still something urging Ed on. As if their meeting had a special reason. He figured he'd tell the Colonel about this stranger. That coat was peculiar, and he had never seen it before.

"Hey, Al. You could never remember that day, right?"

The armour was taken aback.

"Yeah," he said, as they glanced out the window, where they could see Amestrian officers climbing aboard the train now that they had reached East City. The Blue Squad members were to be taken back to Central City on another train, and a search party for Bald the leader was underway.

"Every time I tried to remember... something's blocking it," Edward said slowly. The feel of his automail arm against his jacket felt more real than ever. "Why? Why can't we remember how Mom died? And... there was somebody else there with us, but..."

"We just don't remember who." Alphonse finished for him sadly. "Sometimes, I'd hear a voice, though," he added, hoping he was helpful. "A boy's voice. Maybe he was someone we met when we were young."

 _If that was true... then..._ "What happened to him?" Edward wanted to know. "No doubt about it. He's probably the one who has our answers. About Mom." The Elric turned to look at his younger brother. "Maybe he has answers about our bodies, too."

The expression Al gave him made Edward realize how ridiculous he sounded, but if there was an inch of hope left in this world for them, then Edward was ready to bet everything on it. "Come on, don't look at me like that. Everyone says Mom died because of an illness, but isn't it weird that we could never remember anything in her last moments?" he urged his brother. "Seeing Mom in that state when we performed the transmutation that day..." he said quietly, "doesn't that bother you, make you wonder how she was even like that?"

"I don't know, Brother." The melancholy in Alphonse's voice was vivid. "If we can't even remember this person who was with us that day... how will we..." he trailed off. Al fiddled with his fingers, refusing to meet his golden eyes.

"Then let's add it to the list of things we need to find." Edward's hands balled into fists. "Let's find the Philosopher's Stone, and let's find this person we're connected to. I won't give up," he declared, his eyes burning with its own kind of fire. "Once we're done reporting to the Colonel bastard, let's head back to Resembool."

"Resembool?" Al was surprised. "Why?"

"Because there's a bicycle there, still," Edward said softly, resting his chin on his hand as a cheery Hughes waved at him through the window from the platform. "Winry said it belonged to someone, but she doesn't remember either. So it's got to be his, the person we're looking for."

"I see..." Edward didn't hear the small smile in his brother's voice.

"Come on, let's go. Hughes is waiting for us."

* * *

 _Allen_

* * *

 _"That was close."_

"Yes," the Exorcist agreed quietly. The golden earring on his left ear buzzed as Komui spoke through the transmitter.

 _"If they found out you were an Exorcist... it would be bad. The hatred for us is rather unimaginable these days,"_ the man laughed uneasily. _"From what you told me, they seem to be official Alchemists."_

Allen was quiet at this.

 _"How did you even get this communication line to work? You bypassed the frequencies in Amestris?"_ the scientist sounded impressed. _"The satellites over there is quite different from ours, I would presume."_

Allen laughed sheepishly as he unstuck several of his cards from the cylinder of the train. "Actually, I kind of cut through a bit of the circuits and valves which kind of made the transmitter work for some reason. I had to tell you something urgent, and so I was hoping by disconnecting some stuff."

 _"And you had to destroy a whole compartment of a train and separate it from the main body just to tell me?"_ he could hear Komui raise an eyebrow.

"Yes. Supervisor, you see..."

 **—static**

 _"Allen?"_ the man asked as the exorcist yelped slightly in pain. _"Are you all right?"_

"I'm fine. It's the same thing I've told you about, before," Allen replied as he sat down on a rail and felt the sun shine on his face. "It happened a lot today."

 _"Has it? That's concerning. If that's the case, you better hurry with your mission at East City and then head to the Black Order."_ Komui seemed to smile over the line. _"I think I should do the honour of officially welcoming you once and for all. Anyway, I have to go. Report to me if anything unusual happens. Don't forget to take a break."_

"You mean, I have to walk all the way to East City now..." Allen groaned as the line cut off. He was famished, exhausted, and was not fancying a long journey by foot to his destination. He removed his hood and glanced up at the fluffy soft clouds that soared over him.

"So that guy was an Alchemist, huh..." he said softly. "What was his name? He had a brother named Alphonse... " the name lingered on his lips for a moment before he shook his head, not at all in the mood to dwell on anything else. "Amestris is interesting as you can get."

The Exorcist heaved himself up, dearly regretting to have left his briefcase aboard the train.

"Well. I better not cross ways with another Alchemist." The red scar enlarged as silver eyes watched the continuous long railroad ahead of him. "I need to protect my Innocence at all costs from people like them."

He strode off, the long coat glistening in the sun as the Black Order emblem radiated proudly on his chest.

* * *

 _Note_

* * *

 _Hi everyone, I hoped this chapter was decent. It's short compared to the prologue but for starters, I didn't want to pack a lot of information at once, and I'm kind of lazy to write longer chapters too._

 _I wanted to know if this formatting style is all right? Putting 'Allen' or 'Edward'? I could remove it from it takes away the perspective._

 _Some plots in here are not 100% canon which is what I'm aiming for - Trisha's death, Ed/Al/Winry's memories. This makes it more fun to write about, since this is suppose to be two universes in one._

 _I think a lot of you are excited for other FMA/DGM interactions, especially Mustang/Hawkeye, Lavi, and the reason why Allen hasn't meet Komui in person yet._

 _I tried my best to describe Allen's backstory too, which isn't 100% canon either._

 _Anyway, please let me know what you think of the story so far!_

 _I seem to be running out of ideas for other characters, such as Lenalee, Kanda, etc._

 _And if you are curious by now, Allen does speak in a fluent Amestrian dialect._


End file.
